


The Wife Life of a Boy Toy

by Lorese



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Aprons, Barebacking, Bondage, Collars, Come Eating, Come Swallowing, Crossdressing, Dom/sub, Domestic, Domestic Bliss, Domestication, Dominance, Drugs, Forced Marriage, French Kissing, Gay, Gay Sex, Gender Roles, Genderbending, Glasses, High Heels, Hypnotism, Kidnapping, Kissing, Large Cock, Licking, Lipstick & Lip Gloss, M/M, Makeup, Marriage, Memory Alteration, Mind Control, Mindfuck, Multi, Multiple Relationships, Nipple Piercings, Oral Sex, Panties, Polyamory, Pubic Hair, Restraints, Rough Oral Sex, Science Fiction, Sex, Submission, Tongues, Twinks, Wedding Night, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:07:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26127745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorese/pseuds/Lorese
Summary: Content warning for your typical "personality alteration via mind control," and sex thereafter! There's some playing with gender roles, but no actual transformation.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 3
Kudos: 176





	The Wife Life of a Boy Toy

**Author's Note:**

> Content warning for your typical "personality alteration via mind control," and sex thereafter! There's some playing with gender roles, but no actual transformation.

There was a light sizzling sound as Tim was released from his bonds. His attendants, two burly men who may as well have been mute for all he knew, undid the straps on his chair and helped him to his feet. He wobbled.

It wasn’t just the white high heels he wasn’t used to wearing. He was processing a _lot_ of new things all at once. The one and only thing Tim was confident about was that he was very, very happy!

Lastly, the ushers removed the “tiara” from Tim’s shaggy black hair. It was a mass of wires, coils, metal, and little electrodes that had touched Tim’s scalp. Cords ran from the tiara into the chair where he had been restrained. It wasn’t until he saw the steam rising from the ugly device that he realized the sizzling sound had come from his own head.

“Silly thing,” he slurred. “Making funny sounds like that!”

The two men drew Tim to his full height — which, even in the heels, wasn’t much over five feet. Tim used to be embarrassed by his short stature and slim frame. That was all in the past. He had to flaunt what he had got!

In this case, that meant standing up straight to keep his flat, pale tummy forward. His ass, still the thickest part of him despite repeated visits to the gym, jutted backwards thanks to his absurd shoes.

His plump peach was perfectly visible in the lacy white panties he wore. His clothes were too transparent to cover him. His garter belts and frilly stockings, the cut-out bra that was really just two triangles framing his puffy nipples, and the long opera gloves that accentuated his dainty hands: it was all visible beneath the barely there curtains of his wedding dress.

To complete the look, his captors replaced his helmet with a headdress — complete with a silk veil. Tim bit his lip as he felt himself sealed into his costume. His cock rebelled against his panties, pushing the strip of fabric forward to show off side-shaft to anyone who looked.

He didn’t usually dress like this, but today was a special day!

Tim hadn't realized just how special until he found the package waiting outside his apartment door. He remembered being slightly disappointed that his very handsome neighbor was nowhere to be seen… He had never worked up the courage to speak more than five words to him, much less ask him out, but they often returned at the same time and exchanged pleasantries.

He carried the parcel inside, unsure what he must have ordered. Within the package, however, was something Tim was certain he never bought: a frilly, lacy white garment with matching underwear. It was perversely skimpy — the sort of thing one wore in a porn parody rather than a real wedding. Not to mention Tim was a guy! He wasn’t the most masculine man on the planet, but he wasn’t a crossdresser, either. It must have been a mistake.

Beneath the wedding dress was a note on hard stationary. It smelled like perfume and simply read “You’ll look great in this. See you tonight! XOXO.”

“What the fuck?” Tim muttered aloud. The perfume made his head spin. He suddenly couldn’t quite process that the letter might not be for him. “See who… tonight?”

That was the last thing he remembered before waking up in his chair.

His wrists, ankles, and neck were bound to the seat. But even in his seat, and through his groggy wakefulness, Tim could tell he was wearing the skimpy dress. He blinked a few times and bit his tongue to wake himself from this bizarre dream. Except… nothing changed. He was still tied to the chair; he was still wearing that weird dress.

“What the fuck” he repeated. Though his voice was slow and felt detached from his body. “What is this?”

“You’re a wedding present,” a chipper voice said from somewhere in the room. 

At least Tim assumed it did. Only the chair was illuminated under a hot, bright light. It made him uncomfortably sweaty. The rest of the area was cloaked in shadows.

“My... wedding present?” Tim had misheard the voice. “I’m not getting married. And I’m not a girl! Where am I?!”

The young man pulled against his restraints to no avail. His delicate arms weren’t suited to breaking steel bonds at the best of times, much less when he was still waking up from a pleasant, drug-induced nap. The strangers pressed on without correcting him.

“Today I guess this is a reception hall,” they explained. “Though it serves many different purposes depending on customer specifications. You’re lucky! You’re about to make some very, very happy memories. I’m going to help you make them.”

“Asshole,” Tim berated the voice. “Let me go! If this is some weird hazing the guys at work put you up to, it’s not funny. This is kidnapping!”

“Hazing? Not at all! You’ve heard of shotgun weddings. Well, this is more like using the carrot than the stick. You’ve caught the eye of your special someone. I’m just here to help you become the doting wife they deserve.”

“Wife?” Tim scoffed, but couldn’t keep from blushing. He always worried he looked too effeminate. Now his body had really bit him in the ass. “I’m a guy, dumbass. You’ve got the wrong person.”

“Not at all,” said the voice. “Tim Ferry, age 23, height 5’1”, brown hair, green eyes, slender frame.”

There was a pause.

“It also makes special note of your very endowed backside.”

Tim’s blushing intensified.

“Anyway, you’re the last spouse for today, so I’d like to finish up. Not to worry, though! By the time I’m through you’ll be very happy with your new domestic duties. You might be a boy, but a happy wife means a happy life. Let’s make you happy!”

“I don’t-” Before Tim could finish there was a noticeable whirring sound. For the first time since he’d awoken, he realized there was some sort of device on his head: a metal helmet, or crown. It was the source of the noise.

The whirring intensified and Tim felt his scalp tingle. It was like having his hair shampooed at a salon — warm and relaxing, but forceful and practiced. It felt good, but also irresistible in a way that worried him. It was as if he _could_ fight it, but knew he _shouldn’t_... 

His lips quavered between a grimace and a smile. Something was definitely wrong. He just couldn’t put his finger on it! Maybe that was because he couldn’t move his hands. Why was he tied down again…?

Sensation reverberated through Tim’s skull, into his gray matter, and back off the other side of bone, repeating the cycle endlessly as vibrations poured into his noggin. His mind jiggled.

Images swirled between his atomized thoughts. They were indistinct, at first, but his tiara sparked tiny arcs of electricity, wedging open his consciousness.

Tim saw himself. He was chatting away with his gorgeous neighbor in their shared hallway. Tim was blushing, but his neighbor was cool, and confident, and so in charge.

Then there was a tiny whine from the machine. Suddenly Tim didn’t see himself in the hallway; he _was_ in the hallway. Butterflies buffeted his stomach as this totally hot guy talked to him at length.

The world churned. Now Tim was kneeling in the stranger’s apartment doorway, giving him his daily welcome home blowjob! Warm meat and salty pre filled his senses. His eyes bulged as the eight inch rod tickled the back of his throat. 

Tim didn’t gag; he was far too used to it by now. He _craved_ a throatfucking and much, much more. But alas, once he was done saying hello he’d return to his apartment, belly full of cum but otherwise empty and alone.

Time lurched forward again. His boyfriend had left Tim a package outside his apartment door! He was always doing that: giving dildos, plugs, chastity belts, and assorted other toys to use at home and wear at work. This one was different, though. Inside the cardboard box was a plain black collar.

In glittery font it simply read “Homemaker.” Tim’s heart leapt into his cock-trained throat. His super hot boyfriend was finally getting serious about their relationship!

Beneath where the collar was found, Tim also found a pretty pink apron. He knew he was about to learn a _lot_ of new things about taking care of his man. But that was alright. His boyfriend was so good at training him!

The rest of Tim’s time in the chair was a hazy montage of heartfelt scenes. In one he was doing the dishes, only wearing his collar and favorite apron, when his fiancé came up from behind and silently slipped his pre-lubed lovestick between the cheeks of Tim’s bubble butt.

Tim knew he couldn’t stop his domestic duties. Instead he did his best to wipe and wash between grunts and twitches of terrible pleasure. His back arched; his hips pumped of their own volition. The dick dove ever deeper, probing the walls and sensitive nugget of his insides.

His own, less impressive member wobbled in front of him. It bumped the kitchen counter, hard, sending unexpected signals of happiness up his spine.

His fiancé was much taller than Tim. And the latter wasn’t allowed to wear his high heels (or indeed any shoes) at home. So the former had to bend his knees around Tim as he pumped. It caged the little homemaker in the kitchen — literally putting him in his place. After months of intense training not too different from this, his physical and emotional submission were a heavenly cocktail that made him as tipsy as wine coolers!

Tim couldn’t take it anymore. Long before his man deposited a load inside him, the wife-in-training squirted a small glob of goo straight up onto the sink ledge. He would have to clean it up later. But there was no time like the present...

Unwilling to stop cleaning, Tim bent his head awkwardly down, still getting rammed raw every other instant. His tongue rolled over his own countertop cream. It was delicious, as all cum was, and fuzzied his thoughts even further as his pounding continued.

The static eventually melted into more shots of couples bliss: nights spent together, more training on how to look, think, talk, and act, cooking and cleaning, as well as shopping for supplies and sexy new outfits!

It was all so dreamy, but Tim knew these were his own memories. They cemented inside his quivering brain jelly, giving his personality solid ground to reform itself around.

He was a happy homemaker! Soon he would be a happy wife with a happy life. It didn’t matter that he was also a boy, like his soon-to-be husband, and a sex toy to boot. After all...

Happy wife, happy life!

Happy boy, happy toy!

Happy wife, happy life!

Happy boy, happy toy!

The machine let this mantra cycle through Tim’s mind for an extra few minutes before powering down. 

When it finished, the subject was as slumped in his seat as the restraints would allow. Half-lidded green eyes complemented his drooling smile. Eventually, the escorts that had helped carry to Tim to the room, unconscious, returned to help put on his finishing touches.

They cleaned his face and applied glossy red lipstick instead. Eyeliner, foundation, and blush gave his features some color and extra definition.

One attendant pulled out a piercing gun and pinched Tim’s nipples, one by one. Two tiny barbells were inserted into the puffy bumps. It added a little something to the tradwife tramp motif — another invisible sign of perversion for Tim to share with his husband and his husband alone.

“Wake up, Tim,” the voice in the room intoned. “Wake up! It’s your special day. You don’t want to be late for your own wedding, so you?”

Tim blinked. No! He definitely didn’t want that. He was a good boy and wanted to be a happy wife… Except he couldn’t seem to move from his chair.

“Ooh, that’s today! I’m so silly sometimes. I forget stuff so easily! Luckily I’m about to land a handsome hubby who can just tell me what to do all the time.”

“That’s right. I’m sure you’ll make a lot of _new_ happy memories together. Now… If you two wouldn’t mind?”

The men unshackled the unresistant Tim from his seat. They guided him to his feet and removed the sizzling metal from his scalp.

“Silly thing,” he said. Though he wasn’t certain if he meant the device or himself…

Tim was ushered out a door he hadn’t seen before. It took his eyes a moment to adjust, but quickly he realized it was a small meeting room, stacked with chairs all facing toward a single group of people at the other side of the room.

One was a very pretty woman with glasses. She was all in black with a matching, round hat. She stood behind a podium and beamed at Tim with a dazed expression.

In front of the podium, to the woman’s right, was Tim’s neighb- fiancé! He smiled with much greater confidence at his approaching bride and the two ushers. His sandy blond hair and glasses shone in the fluorescent lights. He looked Tim up and down in his dress with hungry blue eyes; the bride went weak in the knees.

To the woman’s left, however, were two more men. Neither was as small as Tim, but both were in great shape.. One had dark, brown skin and short, black hair shaved on the sides. The other was a very feminine Asian man with perfectly messy straight, dark hair. Both were wearing equally slutty dresses as Tim.

At first Tim thought they might be bridesmaids, but weren’t bridesmaids supposed to wear different colors than the bride?

A tinny stereo somewhere kicked in to start playing “Here Comes the Bride.” And suddenly Tim was only concerned with marching up the aisle to his fiancé.

Happy wife, happy life!

Happy boy, happy toy!

The words reverberated through his mind with every step. 

Happy wife, happy life!

Happy boy, happy toy!

Until finally Tim reached his destination. The burly men lined him up next to the other two attendees and quietly excused themselves.

Tim’s fiancé continued to smile at all three of them. Heat rose in Tim’s body, obscured by the veil over his face.

“Dearly beloved,” the woman began. Her voice was slightly mechanical — as if she was reciting the words from memory, but had never done so before. “We are gathered here today to join these individuals in matrimony.”

Tim glanced at the “dearly beloved.” For the first time, he noticed the smattering of witnesses were also married couples — or married groups —garbed in all manner of dresses, suits, and lingerie. Some lounged drowsily on their partners’ laps. Others watched either rapt attention. Two women in the back row appeared to be making out. They _all_ seemed very happy.

Tim couldn’t wait to have what they had! He began to listen to the officiant again.

“Do you, Terry, vow to take this man as the object of your worship, the center of your universe, the giver of your commands, and the ruler of your thoughts? Do you bow to serve and obey him at all times, sexually and otherwise, no matter how depraved or demeaning it might seem?”

“I do,” said the Black man.

“And do you, Kevin?”

“I do,” agreed the Asian man.

“And you, Tim?”

“I do,” Tim said without a second’s hesitation. He was slightly confused, but his fiancé’s face washed away all doubt! 

Apparently he was marrying three different boys at once. That was news to Tim, but it wasn’t his place to second guess anything his hubby wanted. He had just vowed to obey him in all things, after all!

“And do you, Donny, take these three sluts as your personal playthings? Do you vow to use, fuck, humiliate, and breed them to your heart’s content? Do you agree to split your time between them as you see fit, re-dominating them every day, mind, body, and soul?”

“I do,” said Donny. So that was his name! It was such a handsome title for such a handsome man.

“Then you may kiss the bride...s,” the officiant said, her plastered smile growing the slightest bit more puzzled.

One by one, Donny lifted his wives’ veils, sticking his tongue dutifully down all three throats. The witnesses cheered and clapped politely (except for the two still making out themselves).

As he kissed them, Donny pulled each new slut into his embrace, gripping them by the rears exposed around their panties. The forceful, skinny display made Tim’s ears ring with excitement.

“I now pronounce you master and servants!”

More cheers followed. Then Donny wound his three wives’ arms into his own and pulled them hurriedly off the stage. The music returned and other partners began to filter out of the room as well, or allowed themselves to be maneuvered by their more domineering companions. That was what happened to the officiant. The gruesome twosome returned to guide her by the hands — not through the exit everyone else was using, but back into the dark room Tim had come from. She kept smiling the whole way.

It was nighttime when Donny took all three brides home that night. And Tim was shocked to learn all his fellow servants lived on the same floor as he and his husband! He had never noticed. But now they had the entire level of the building to themselves.

Donny didn’t exactly carry them each over the threshold. But he did instruct all three to leave their doors unlocked that night. He was going to visit each of them, one after the other, to celebrate their new matrimony.

Tim couldn’t just wait for his turn. He rushed inside his apartment and shut the door behind him. Then he fell to his knees, still in his “dress” and underwear, and watched the door patiently. He pulled his puny (at least compared to Donny) pecker out of his pantries and stroked it slowly.

Some time passed before Donny finally entered, clearly out of breath, and leaned against the door once it was closed.

“Phew,” he said. “It’s gonna be some honeymoon with you three. The doc said you would be ravenous, but it’s a very different experience firsthand.”

“Poor baby,” Tim purred. “You just relax and let your new wife _suck_ all the stress away. You work so _hard_ . Let me give you some _release_.”

Donny, grateful he would be able to take it easy for a moment, sake to a seated position against the door. His literally blushing bride crawled toward him slowly on all fours.

“Ah ah ah,” Donny said. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Tim froze for a moment before realizing. Still on his hands and knees, he kicked off his heels and let them clatter to the linoleum.

“That’s better,” Donny crowed. “Good boy.”

Tim felt his panties dampen with precum. Good thing they were already white! He didn’t stop his march.

Instead, he dropped his head down again, as he had done while washing dishes that evening, and found his husband’s fly. With an awkward tug of his teeth he was able to undo the zipper.

Tim slipped his practiced tongue under the shaft and pulled. It wasn’t hard with so much surface area to work with!

Whatever antics Donny had undergone in the other apartments, they weren’t stopping him from getting hard again. His full length was stiffening outward nicely. To help it along, Tim propped the member up against his own face, hands still on the ground. It’s warmth permeated his cheek.

His mouth went down to Donny’s clean-shaven sack and sucked away. One testicle popped into his mouth like candy. Only it tasted ten times sweeter to Tim (with just a hint of sweaty aftertaste).

Finally, Tim raised one hand to fondle the rod, teasing its tip with his thin fingers. He pressed it harder into his face, using the surface to work the underbelly. It didn’t take much to get Donny up to full mast. The heat intensified.

Running his tongue up from ball to tip, Tim swallowed the sensitive red end and nothing else.

Donny moaned and shut his eyes. He gripped Tim by the shoulders and guided him to put more of the meat inside him — deeper, deeper, deeper.

Only there was a problem. Donny was _big_. Tim’s gag reflex caused him to sputter. That was odd. He had done this hundreds of times before! Memories of welcome home blowjobs and widely training competed with his body’s natural instincts.

They managed to find a middle ground. Tim was able to fit Donny mostly inside his mouth, rhythmically gulping down globs of saliva that rose up to lubricate the invasive presence. The effect was an overblown peristalsis that Donny didn’t seem to mind at all. And while Tim teared up around his guest, each gulp also pulsed waves of pleasure into his groin. There was even a sympathetic twinge from his prostate.

The gulping and slurping continued. They found a kind of rhythm that way. Tim’s persona as a slinky, sexy comfort to his exhausted husband was dashed, of course. But pivoting to fuck meat had its own pleasures…

The pair pumped and sucked. Lipstick smeared over already flushed flesh. An errant pube got caught in the mix and went along for the ride around Tim’s mouth. His eyes widened as he looked into his partner’s clenched face. 

“Fuck!” Donny eventually relented. His member twitched. Increasing volumes of pre mixed with the guzzle of slobber. “Fuck, I’m gonna… I’m- Oooh!”

He finally stood up, taking Tim with him. Then he shot his wad — much thicker than you’d expect from someone who’d just had at least one other partner — and reflexively pulled his wife even deeper.

Tim could hardly handle the throatfucking. It made stars erupt in his vision and his arms go limp. Donny (and Donny’s dick) became the only things holding him upright. Conscious thought failed him. Only the tightly fastened montage of memories he’d received from the chair that evening held fast. They replayed in his head, as they were programmed to do every night while Tim slept, and kept him anchored in this reality.

Happy wife, happy life!

Happy boy, happy toy!

Tim finally regained some senses when the splooge became too much to swallow fast enough — a reaction to his body warning him, as if he might drown in cum if he didn’t act.

So he let the ooze fill his cheeks and mouth, wrapping the fat cock with its own juices. When that wasn’t enough, a thin thread of drool and semen funneled over his bottom lip. It fell on the linoleum. He was going to have to clean that up later… For now, however, his arms still dangled an inch off the floor; his head and shoulders were still suspended by a boner in afterglow.

“That was… amazing,” Donny offered. “Hold still.”

The husband removed Tim’s headpieces (first the veil then his member). Tim sealed his lips to keep more cum from spilling. His girlish cheeks puffed out with the strain. Though he did his best to swallow his meal in gulps as big as he could manage.

Donny grunted as he wrapped his softening member in Tim’s hair. He used his new wife like a towel to clean his sticky sword.

The new bride had never felt so useless, used, unimportant, passive, docile, or _amazing_. He was the perfect toy for Donny. And from now on he would be a perfect wife, as well.

Happy wife, happy life!

Happy boy, happy toy!

“That’s better,” Donny added. “Now why don’t you clean your mess up and get changed. In the future, I expect you to swallow every last drop unless I tell you otherwise. Clear?”

“Mhmm,” Tim mumbled.

“Say ‘yes sir,’” Donny insisted. “Or ‘yes master.’ We’re married now and you need to show me proper respect.”

Tim hesitated for a brief second. He knew he was about to make a bigger mess to clean, but had also been given a direct order from his husband. Between disobeying and giving himself more work, it was really no choice at all.

“Yesh mashter,” he slurred. Spunk-spit poured from his lips and chin. “Anyfing oo wish, shir.”

It was such a funny sound Tim couldn’t help but smile. He was such a silly thing!


End file.
